


Impulse

by RhythmickRobot (rhythmickorbit)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bodyguard, Bodyguard Romance, Class Differences, DnD AU, Drabble, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, F/F, Fantasy, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Half-Orcs - Freeform, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, Pining, Prompt Fic, Sharing a Bed, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, This was so fun to write tbh, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wood Elves, cleric, dnd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 03:44:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20075596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhythmickorbit/pseuds/RhythmickRobot
Summary: As soon as Chromia had even begun to see the cracks in the Cityspeaker's apparent divinity, she should have stepped away, as befitting a bodyguard of her station. She and Windblade, however, became even more intertwined as their journey staggered forward, in more ways than one.She can't get the touch of Windblade's hand out of her mind, however much she tries.





	Impulse

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for this one was "At that moment, I should have left."

Windblade was a  _ symbol _ , if nothing else. She was almost godlike in her convictions, in her abilities. She was a natural at every challenge that the world threw at her, it seemed, and for that Chromia admired her endlessly. The vows that she took, the promise that she made seemed easy in the face of Windblade’s seemingly flawless goodness.

...At least, that was what Chromia had believed initially. Believed in Windblade’s ineffability, her perfection. Chromia had been, for lack of a better word, infatuated by a goddess. There had been a space between them, before, that had been insurmountable.

Then, the journey had changed them. The demons emerging, the broken gods, the destitute cities. They were all so  _ unlike _ Caminus, and the people that dwelled within so varied. 

Her perception shifted, little by little. Windblade showed moments of weakness, impossible to overlook by one raised in battle and protection such as Chromia. The trembling in Windblade’s hands when she spoke to Metroplex for the first time. The parting in her lips, the hesitation when they passed a pair of homeless tiefling children on the streets of Tetrahex. The sorrow in her voice, with no attempt to hide it as she communed with the broken Navitas.

Chromia should have looked away from those moments, buried them in the back of her mind. She should have focused on protecting her Cityspeaker, rather than finding the mortality in one so holy. Chromia should have stayed distant.

And, yet, she couldn’t do it. She stayed by Windblade’s side. She put her hand on Windblade’s arm to steady her. She slipped the tiefling children a couple of coins when Windblade couldn’t. And, even though the action was above her station, nearly an act of heresy, she brushed her hand against Windblade’s, and quietly expressed her confidence in order to quell the Cityspeaker’s sorrow.

They had purchased room and board at one of the dingier inns around, when all semblance of propriety came crashing down around them. Chromia had gone out to buy supplies for the road, while Windblade took care of renting their room.

Chromia had walked into the inn, and said something about low-grade mead. Windblade had given a light laugh in return, and countered by asking if Chromia had bought some of the honey candy that she so loved-- it reminded Windblade of the forests around Caminus.

Of course Chromia did. Chromia huffed in mock-annoyance, and handed a small box of treats to the greedy hands of her Cityspeaker. They sat in the corner of the inn, and each ate a bowl of some kind of stew. Chromia never could identify what the innkeepers put into those dishes, and, even with her orcish upbringing and subsequent strong stomach, did not want to know for the sake of getting to sleep at night.

“It tastes a little bit like opossum meat,” Windblade remarked.

“How do you know what opossum tastes like?” Chromia, on her part, raised an eyebrow in surprise. She couldn’t even imagine Windblade eating meat at all in their previous life, much less the type that wasn’t cultivated specifically for the Temple of Caminus.

“I wasn’t inducted into the Temple until I was about nine years of age,” Windblade admitted, leaning just a little too close to Chromia and keeping her voice down to a light whisper. Despite the noise of the inn around them, Chromia could hear her perfectly. “I know, it’s a bit old to be inducted, but…” the Cityspeaker shrugged. “My blood family was not aware of my connection to Caminus until I had already begun hunting. I could probably still use a bow.” Her eyes brightened suddenly, and Chromia was bathed in sunlight-- not quite holy, but warm and satisfying. “I’ll hunt the next time we camp.”

“Well, if you  _ are  _ able to use a bow, it would certainly lighten the weight on our coin purse,” Chromia teased. She was teasing a  _ Cityspeaker _ . The other guards of the Temple would be affronted, and Chromia would almost certainly be stripped of her ranking. 

Windblade didn’t mind at all, and smiled freely. Chromia’s stomach churned, and she decided to blame it on the stew. “Well, we certainly have no want of that. Not with the bounty jobs combined with our Temple duties.”

_ Our…? _ What a strange concept, to use in conjunction with a mere bodyguard. Chromia could hardly deny how  _ right  _ it sounded. 

“Perhaps we should keep our bounty jobs on… the quieter side,” Chromia said tentatively. “I am not sure if the Mistress of Flame would be pleased if we were…  _ you _ were… fighting common criminals instead of…”

“We’re helping people, Chromia,” Windblade cut her off, her eyes suddenly serious. “I’m sure that the Mistress of Flame would approve of that, if nothing else.” The slightest quaver in Windblade’s voice signaled her own doubt. Chromia, on her part, was rather distracted by the feeling of Windblade’s slender hand brushing against her larger, calloused one across the table. That was an accident, yes. Nothing to dwell upon.

Chromia dwelled on it, even as she and Windblade continued their conversation, which was far more personal that Chromia ever had a right too. Then, Windblade’s soft fingers were  _ lingering _ , dwelling just on top of Chromia’s scarred knuckles, and Chromia wanted to either die or…

Or…

She _should_ jerk her hand away. That would be the appropriate reaction, she was certain. Windblade’s touch burned into Chromia’s hand, even as they left their table in the pub and headed up to their shared room-- Windblade had explained that every other one was taken, so the two had to share.

“Windblade.” Chromia stood in the doorway.

“Yes?” Windblade turned around from within the room, her expression softening as it landed on Chromia. Something crumbled inside of Chromia’s system, and she could not for the life of her tell what it was.

“Ah, never mind. I will sleep near the door, then.” Chromia nodded, mostly to herself. She pushed away any and all implications that could possibly--

“No, there is no need for that. You can sleep with me.”

Chromia’s entire world froze, and her chest began to burn. “I, ah. I might crush you,” she said lamely. She could certainly see that happening, especially with how slender Windblade’s figure was--

“No, you won’t.” Windblade’s hand was insistent, now, pulling at Chromia’s wrist. “It’s cold. Think of it as…” Windblade paused. “Hm. Additional bodyguard duties? Not that I… hm. I don’t want to force you?” The Cityspeaker’s uncertainty was never as pronounced as it was now, for reasons that Chromia, for once, couldn’t quite fathom.

Chromia glanced at the bed, and then back at Windblade. This cycle went on two or three times.

She should leave, before her heart soared too high. Before the softness of Windblade’s hand became too familiar, and the crest of her neck and the feeling of her lips were-- Chromia’s head suddenly felt fuzzy, her mouth dry. This would never be allowed in Caminus, Chromia knew. Cityspeakers were only ever involved with other Cityspeakers, but…

“We aren’t in Caminus,” Windblade said softly, concern and anxiety alike marring the planes of her soft complexion. Something in Chromia agreed. No, they weren’t in Caminus-- and, besides, it wasn’t like this would lead to anything  _ especially _ scandalous. Of course not.

Chromia nodded, against her better judgment. She allowed herself to be lead to the bed, against her better judgment. She allowed herself to drift to sleep in Windblade’s embrace, just this once.

And,  _ just this once, _ Chromia ghosted her lips across Windblade’s forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> ANOTHER drabble?? It's more likely than you think. I understand that this is kinda,,, incoherent, but I love these girls to bits and I had to post a little bit of writing with them as soon as I could. I am a huge fan of Chromia, and also a huge fan of DnD, as you can see. This was also to practice writing their voices, and to practice my DnD au with these characters.
> 
> I looooove dnd aus. I bet you couldn't tell.
> 
> ANYWAY, I hope you enjoyed this pointless fluff as much as I did writing it. Chromeblade does not get enough fluffy content and I intend to PROVIDE, dammit!


End file.
